


Maths is Hard and Boys are Pretty

by iamyourownforever (Keepcalmanddontgetangry)



Series: e/R - Canon Era [4]
Category: Les Misérables (2012)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Artist Grantaire, Bisexual Grantaire, Bottom Enjolras, Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Drunk Grantaire, Dysfunctional Family, Enjolras Was A Charming Young Man Who Was Capable Of Being Terrible, M/M, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-28 04:38:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5078107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keepcalmanddontgetangry/pseuds/iamyourownforever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sharing is caring.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

"You do not speak much about your father."

It was a statement. Rather than look Enjolras in the eye, as Grantaire usually did with such confrontation from him, he looked down into his glass. He had not moved onto the bottle yet, though he knew he would if Enjolras went on like this.

"Neither do you."

Enjolras scowled. Grantaire knew enough about Enjolras' family to satisfy them both. There was no need for him to elaborate: only child, wealthy family, parents still alive and together. The ideal, or at least... the ideal to many. The ideal for Grantaire, in some ways too.

"We aren't talking about me, Grantaire," he said, knocking Grantaire's hand away as he reached for the bottle of wine set in the middle of the table. It stood beside the candle, the light from its flame danced over the glass. "Talk to me," Enjolras continued. "I feel as though I do not know you."

Their hands had somehow come together. Grantaire's eyes lowered as he gazed at them, while Enjolras checked over his shoulder that no one else was facing them. The cafe was quite empty. There were a few other people huddled in one corner, though they seemed disinterested to what was going on around them, and a couple of people at the bar, who had a solemn, sunken, faces and were looking at their drinks.

"You know me as much as you want to," Grantaire said, about to pull his hand away. He stopped when he realised what a crime that would be. You did not let go of Enjolras' hand, not when it sought you out on its own accord. "Ask the others," he said as he gave Enjolras' a quick squeeze, before opting to let his fingers go dead rather than outright let go of Enjolras’ hand. "I am sure they can fill you in on all you need to know."

"I have asked them, of course I have asked them," Enjolras said in protest. "But it is not about what I need to know, Grantaire. It is about what I want to know--"

"Oh, and you must always get to know what you want to know, is that right, Enjolras?" Grantaire snapped back, finishing his glass as he leaned over the table to take the bottle.

"That's beside the point," Enjolras sighed. As if by instinct his hand moved from Grantaire's when he picked up the drink. "I want to know about your family, Grantaire," he began again, quieter this time. He had learned the hard way that sometimes with friends and lovers, well especially lovers, lovers like Grantaire, you had to be quiet to listen before being given the tools to understand.

"God forbid you be denied, " Grantaire said, sounding defeated. "You know that I cannot deny you anything." He scowled. "And you're an ass for knowing it."

Enjolras smiled at that, though it did not last long, nor did it quite reach his eyes. He shook his head.

"You really want to know?" Grantaire asked, his fingers curling around the neck of the bottle before taking a long drink. "It's not like you are ever going to meet him," Grantaire added, feeling that he should alliterate that point.

"All the more reason to know," Enjolras said, face unchanging.

The candle flickered, illuminating his eyes and jaw line. Grantaire could feel his stomach bound and his dick stiffen. How could he have fallen so far and come out with such luck? Grantaire did not want to sit here and speak the ill of his father while he and Enjolras could be putting their time to better use.

"My father was a goat fucker," Grantaire said, sitting back in his stool. "And I'm glad to be away from his filthy mouth."

"You are the one with the filthy mouth, Grantaire," Enjolras almost scolded. To his thanks it came out more as a tease. "Come on now, be serious."

Grantaire exhaled through his nose, the sound was heavy. He sat forward again, keeping his head down. He did not want to look Enjolras in the eye, afraid that he would see the tears shimmering behind them. It was sinful what he had to say, and although Grantaire had become at rest with himself - for the most part - over it all, he was still haunted by those harsh lessons. Sunday schools, and his father's belt, had taken their toll.

"He did not accept me for who I am," Grantaire said to his lap. "And for that I was punished."

Enjolras scoffed. "And what? Do we not all have similar problems? Our parents not understanding what we--"

Despite the pain in his face, Grantaire's head shot up to look Enjolras directly in the eye. The expression on his face alone changed Enjolras' features, making him sit still and regret, in an instant, what he had said.

"No, you do not understand," Grantaire said. "He knew about me, Enjolras. He knew about who I was and what I did. Being the fool that I am, I told him all so. I thought he would understand... He didn't. Of course he didn't. He said that I could be saved from my liking women too. But, deep down, I think he knew I could never be saved." Grantaire scoffed. "And perhaps he was right. Perhaps I am beyond saving? Not that I want to be... Maybe it is simply that I am not worth the effort for him to think otherwise."

Enjolras had sat in an obedient silence  through Grantaire's speech. Despite Grantaire’s fondness for hyperbole in his common language, Enjolras did not doubt any of what he had just said not to be true. Alas at these last words he could not hold his tongue any longer.

"Grantaire, you are worth a thousand times more than him the way you are now than if you were changed," he said, glancing at the bottle that his lover had been drinking throughout his confession. "Well, I mean perhaps you do drink a little too much, but that vice does not speak for your entire character. Not often, anyway." Now it was Enjolras' turn to speak to his lap. He spoke with greater ease that way than if he were to meet Grantaire's eye. "Besides, deep down, I do not think I would have you any other way. Even though I do sometimes wish that you would exert this much passion for causes other than your next bottle. There are higher causes."

"My cause is high enough," Grantaire said, kicking Enjolras under the table. He was smiling now, at ease from being able to share one of his deeper insecurities.

They then took a long pause just to look at each other. The candle had burned so low it was close to the wood of the table.

"Can we go?" Grantaire said all of a sudden, standing.

"Yes," Enjolras nodded. "Lets."

Outside, in the cold air of the night, they stood close together. Grantaire held Enjolras' hands and breathed on them to generate warmth. Enjolras closed his eyes as he smiled, ignoring his cheeks as they turned pink. They began to make their way back to Grantaire's room, walking in step as to sometimes brush against each other as they went. They went in silence.

"Grantaire?" Enjolras said as they reached his building. Grantaire was searching his pockets for the key.

"Yes?" he said, turning his head as he put the found key inside the door.

"What did you say to him, your father, when you told him about... about the way you are?"

Grantaire laughed, his face to the sky. He opened the door to the house and stepped inside. "I told him that maths was hard and that boys are pretty."

And with that Grantaire pulled Enjolras inside with him. Holding him tight in his arms. It was good to have him. Grantaire preferred to have him over anyone else, and he doubted that Enjolras knew that he was, in fact, his highest cause.


	2. 2

The staircase to Grantaire's room was dark. It was late and entirely likely that the people he rented from had gone to bed. He placed a finger on his lips, giggling as he hushed Enjolras, leading him to his room. A stair creaked and Enjolras rolled his eyes at the expression on Grantaire's face. He smiled too, not wanting Grantaire to think that he disapproved of where this was going.

They tiptoed over the landing. Grantaire squeezed Enjolras' hand, leaning against the wall beside his door. The sound of the key dropping to the floor seemed to echo in the silence. Grantaire fumbled for them in the darkness, his head at a dangerous proximity to Enjolras' crotch.

Enjolras held his breath, waiting for Grantaire to unlock the door. The sooner they were inside the safety of his room, the sooner he could relax and show Grantaire he meant what he had said in the cafe. At last the door was open. Grantaire fell through the door, laughing as he fell onto the floor again.

"Get up!" Enjolras hissed, standing over him. For good measure, he playfully kicked him in the side.

Grantaire rolled over to let him in, laughing even louder. Enjolras took the key from Grantaire's hand to lock up behind them. In the time it took him to do so, Grantaire had got to his feet and wrapped himself around his bent over frame.

"Is it really that hard for you to keep your hands off me, R?" Enjolras teased, allowing himself to be pulled to Grantaire's bed. A moment later Grantaire was heaving on top of him; holding his wrists in one hand and tickling his ribs.

"Is it really that easy for you not to laugh, Enjolras?" Grantaire said as Enjolras did all he could to conceal the noises that wanted to burst from him. He stopped on his pursuit in order to gaze down at him instead. Enjolras' cheeks were pink, and it was clear how much more relaxed he was now that they were alone behind a locked door.

"What?" Enjolras said, his mouth parted as he met Grantaire's eye.

In the dim light from the moon outside it was difficult for either of them to make out much of the other, unless they were close. Grantaire's outline leaned down to his lover’s line of sight, and all of a sudden Enjolras could make out the shape of Grantaire's nose and see the scruff on his chin.

"You’re okay, aren't you? With not ever meeting him?"

It would be wrong to say that Enjolras was taken aback. It was simply that he had not expected this question to come up. His arms wound round Grantaire's neck, and he brought their lips together. Enjolras could feel the tickle of Grantaire's eyelashes against his own. Without a thought, he bopped Grantaire's nose, causing him to fall on top of him in a fit of giggles.

"I do not want to," he said as Grantaire settled beside him, hand over his heart. "Not after what you have told me. Not now."

"Good."

For a while the only sound heard in the room was that of their breathing. Grantaire touched the side of Enjolras' face and let his fingers sweep through his hair. The moonlight only exhilarated his beauty. Of course, at this thought, Grantaire had to break the silence.

"Would you let me paint you one day, Enjolras?" He pecked his cheek as he asked, before resting his forehead against it. "I would very much love, one day, to paint you."

"I thought you had," Enjolras said with a shrug. "Many times. The others speak of your paintings of me, R. I would very much love, one day, to see them."

"You can see them whenever you want," Grantaire said, getting up on his elbows to look down at his lover. He did not want Enjolras to know the embarrassment that he felt in finding out that the others had shared his secret. They all knew how he felt, Grantaire suspected, though not one of them would ever bring it up. He fingered Enjolras’ buttons as he spoke, undoing them enough to slip a hand over his bare chest. "All you need to do is set a day and ask."

Enjolras smiled, holding Grantaire's cheek. "May I see your paintings, R?" he asked.

"Yes, when would you like to see them?"

"Next week? If that is possible?"

"Which day?"

"Tuesday?"

"Hm, I am sure I can organise something for then. Put up some of my finest pieces. Bring out the wine."

"If you so wish it."

"I do."

Grantaire bit his bottom lip. They had succeeded in undressing each other through the conversation. They now sat up together, legs wound round the other's back. Grantaire breathed heavily onto Enjolras' neck. Enjolras ran his nails down Grantaire's spine.

"I love you," Grantaire whispered.

"I love you too," Enjolras replied.

Enjolras pressed on, lifting himself into Grantaire's lap. Grantaire squeezed his buttocks with one hand, sucking on the fingers of the other. He was intent on fingering his lover open. For one who was so often skilled with fine words, Grantaire lived to hear Enjolras moan...

Their lips did not part for too long. Every soft sound was shared. Grantaire admired the roll of Enjolras' hips, holding them as they pleasured each other. Enjolras met his gaze with a smile before throwing his head back to moan. Grantaire gasped at the sight of  Enjolras' muscles glistening with sweat in the moonlight. He reached out to run his fingertips over Enjolras' stomach. He could feel his own heart race.

"You are so beautiful, Enjolras, like a god," Grantaire said in a breathless awe. His hips stuttered to keep in time with his lover's whims. "I would paint you like this, if I could. If you would allow me to?"

Enjolras cheeks went pink. "I would allow it.”

Grantaire gasped. Kissing Enjolras, he came somewhere inside him. Enjolras moaned into Grantaire's mouth, jerking his erection until he came also.

They both collapsed; Grantaire onto the mattress, and Enjolras onto Grantaire. Grantaire laughed as they curled into each other.

"Perhaps I shall leave the painting for tomorrow," he said, feeling the slick of Enjolras' semen on his abdomen. It stuck them together in the most romantic sort of way.

"I did not know you wished to paint me tonight," Enjolras said into Grantaire's neck. Grantaire knew that he was smiling.

After pulling the sheets over them, Grantaire let himself rest. "Perhaps we can save it for tomorrow?" he said, making sure his hold on Enjolras was secure before closing his eyes.

"Hm, tomorrow?" Enjolras replied. His voice held no promise. "Perhaps we can."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, if you leave beautiful comments I will be more likely to write more.


	3. 3

When Grantaire next woke he could not feel the weight of Enjolras beside him. The knock of heavy light on his eyelids had been what had risen him. After washing himself, and dressing, he realised it had just turned noon.

Alone Grantaire made his way to the place he knew all his friends would be. On his way down he passed a neighbour, who gave him a disgruntled look. "And good afternoon to you too," Grantaire said as he pushed passed. Hungover, on more than just the wine, he was in the mood for a fight. Starting one with someone he had to live near would not come up in either one of their favours. Then again, that also went for the one he _wanted_ to fight with.

"Good afternoon, Grantaire. I am glad to see that you have finally come to join us."

"Have you missed me, Combeferre?" Grantaire asked, taking the red drink from his hand and downing it one go. His sour mood lifted considerably when surrounded by friends. Returning the empty glass Grantaire added, "Have you seen Enjolras? Is he here already?"

"The first to arrive," Courfeyrac said, leaning on Combeferre's shoulder as he refilled his glass.

It was with a certain consideration that he passed Grantaire the rest of the bottle; if only because it was already way past half empty, and he knew that Grantaire would ask for it anyway. They were all aware of why Grantaire was in search of their leader, though none dared speak of the reason. To speak of it would pose a digression, in current conversation, that Enjolras would not care for. That was never the point of these meetings. Rarely were they here to discuss private affairs.

Grantaire accepted the exchange and drank, what he could, of his fill. There was not enough wine left to satisfy him, but he was grateful for the amount nonetheless. He bought himself another bottle for good measure; knowing he would need it if he were to face Enjolras today.

"It has only just gone past one," Courfeyrac scolded as Grantaire opened the bottle. However, no attempt was made to stop him.

"You have started without me," Grantaire said, taking a seat in one corner. Had this been the place he and Enjolras had sat together the night before? Things were different in the daylight. "Do not blame me for wanting to catch up."

"You are in a league of your own," Combeferre commented, before making way for Enjolras who had come over to join their circle. Others had followed him over too. Now that they were all together again he could speak.

Grantaire lowered his gaze as Enjolras swept the others away with a fine speech. It was not that he did not want to listen to his lover's words; nor was it that he did not find his performance enticing. It was that Grantaire knew that Enjolras could swallow him whole with any words that he chose to use. In this moment he wished to be kept away from that beautiful throat, in order to focus on his own choice phrases.

When Enjolras opened the discussion up to the floor, Grantaire rose his hand to speak before shakily getting on his feet. Of course, while avoiding Enjolras' eyes as well as his mouth, he had been drinking. It was clear enough that Enjolras did not want to interact with him now. He could tell by the expression on Grantaire's face that he did not have anything relevant to say about what had been announced.

"I have a question, Enjolras," Grantaire said. He held the, near empty, bottle of wine out in front of him for balance as he walked. There was a low kind of fury on Enjolras’ face that only caused Grantaire smile more. "Well, I have more than one. But whether you hear them all depends on how well you answer the first."

"Unless it is to do with anything I have just said, Grantaire, which I highly doubt," Enjolras interrupted, "sit back down."

"Would you sit with me?" Grantaire asked, leaning on the bar beside where Enjolras stood. "Drink with me? Ask me about myself?"

As Grantaire had walked forward, those around him and centred in. Jehan, Feuilly and Joly stood behind him, ready to catch him if he fell. It would not have been the first time that Grantaire had fallen over, while speaking to Enjolras, and it was not always humorous to watch him land on his arse. Combeferre and Courfeyrac stood either side of Enjolras, with Marius at a slight distance behind them. Bahorel and Bossuet were to the right, closing them off to the rest of the room. Each had their arms crossed over their chests, watching with a wary interest.

Grantaire knew all these men by face and name. They were all his friends, or at least he considered them all to be. He held them all dearly to his heart, but he was afraid of how they would react to the words that were stuck on his tongue. Deep down Grantaire who they would cut loose if they had to.

Then again, it was only really Enjolras he wished to speak to in this moment. If questioned by any of them later, Grantaire knew he could blame it on the drink. His head _was_ spinning. They could all tell.  

"Or is that something only reserved for the nighttime, when we are alone?" he continued, picking up on the disapproval, and embarrassment, on Enjolras' face. "He does look beautiful in the candlelight.” Grantaire gestured to the group. “Had any of you noticed that before? We have all seen him give speeches in the dark."

"What did you wish to ask?" Enjolras said, impatience clouding his better judgement. "Out with it so we might get the chance to move on."

"Oh how you can be cruel," Grantaire said, ready to spill everything but the wine. He paused, as an afterthought, to look the others in the eye. Combeferre shook his head, knowing what Grantaire wanted to say. It was that which stopped him. Regret was not a taste he cared for. Grantaire sighed. "I wanted to know whether you had forgotten about... Well, I thought I was to paint you today."

Enjolras' cheeks turned pink, and Grantaire was certain he knew why. "Is that it?" he asked, voice sharper than it needed to be.

Already Grantaire was making his way back to his corner, his friends parting to let him pass. "Yes, that was it," he said. "Though I suppose it was a pointless question. You are here. That answers it all."

Conversation turned back onto Enjolras' plans easy enough. Grantaire smiled and laughed with his friends, buying another bottle of wine for them to share. He and Enjolras kept to opposite sides of the group: close enough to feel the other there, but far enough away not to speak to one another again. They would have their chance later, Grantaire was sure, when the others were gone. They needed to patch up what had been torn.

It was difficult, sometimes, to see from the others point of view. Enjolras knew that Grantaire understood why he could not out himself here. Just as Grantaire knew that keeping it all quiet did not mean that what they said to each other, when alone, lost any of its meaning. In the time they were in, compassion for each other's feelings had to be practised. The consequences, otherwise, were not desired by either of them.

Grantaire waited for the darkness to come. For his friends to leave to sleep, or to other affairs. At last it was only the two of them. Him and Enjolras. The candles had been lit.

"May I paint you now?" Grantaire asked. His vision blurred, and his head was hazy from the wine.

Enjolras sat down beside him; holding his hand under the table. They did not look at each other. He sighed. "If you would like."

Once again, Grantaire could not believe his luck. He had thought that Enjolras had had enough of him. Of course, his luck did not hold out. While standing, Grantaire promptly fell over the table in front of him. Hitting his head. He heard Enjolras curse as he blacked out, mostly from the wine. Still, there was a smile on Grantaire’s face as he lost consciousness. Enjolras had chosen to stay back with him. Be with him. What could ever change that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me what you liked.


End file.
